


The Nastiest Fairest Lady

by Lady_Paper_Writerson



Series: Fragments of Bats [4]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Talia can be great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-15 23:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18679789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Paper_Writerson/pseuds/Lady_Paper_Writerson
Summary: Trying to gather up his own pieces, Jason finds himself at the other side of the world, preoccupied with one of the last missions he and Roy took together. A not-so-mysterious encounter leads him to a person he absolutely didn't expect to come across.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! :) Part 4 is here! Hope you enjoy! ^_^

“Ok, see, it’s the last time I’m asking, man. After that, I’ll start being _mean_ to you. I’ve been nice so far, but you know… you _are_ a character. It takes one to tell another and all”.

The man stood on his shaky knees in front of him, hissing in rage, and viciously spat out some clearly vulgar words in Chinese. Jason rolled his eyes, cursing himself for not having studied this language further than the basics, and pressed his gun further over the man’s head. “ _English_ , motherfucker, do-you-speak-it?!”

Had Roy been there with him at that moment, he would have laughed.

But he wasn’t.

The man blinked for a single second, and then started ranting again in his own language. Jason sighed. If an entire room filled with the guy’s unconscious and mutilated fellow-ninjas, the threat of a bullet directly in his brain, _and_ the magnificent greatness of Samuel L. Jackson had all failed to drive anything out of him, then this meant Jason was simply wasting his time.

He huffed, rubbing at his scruff with the back of his other gun, weighting his choices, when someone took the dilemma away from him.

The sharp hissing of a bullet crossed the air, passing right beside his ear to gracefully end up fixing right in the middle of his companion’s forehead.

Sniper shot.

He’d rolled behind the closest concrete mass before the body even touched the ground, guns ready and mind boiling. His first instinct was to look for the direction of the sniper, but honestly, this old, abandoned building was surrounded by at least ten more -three, from where the bullet had come.

Apparently, as he realized once he slowly peeked, risking a glance back at the open space, he shouldn’t be worried about any harm coming over him.

Probably.

He emerged from his hiding space, always en garde, to face the three members of the League waiting for him. Total black, classically. Formation -classically. Utter stillness -classically. They might as well have been weird modern art sculptures, or creepy mannequins in some sex shop.

“You guys just sprawl out from the ground or something? You’re like, literally everywhere I go. If I pick up a stone, I’m pretty sure I’ll find one of you under it.”

Instead of an answer, one of them tossed a shuriken at him. It was clearly not meant to hit him. Jason catches it between his fingers, right in front of his face.

“Red Hood,” the one the center said, voice unsurprisingly glassy. “You are expected. One hour.”

“Yeah? You don’t say,” he murmured, unfolding the small piece of paper adjusted over the shuriken and reading the address, noted in a quite familiar, elegant handwriting. “Man, I was _talking_ to that guy, why would you assholes just…”

He raised his face, just to find out he’d been talking to himself.

“Dramatic as always,” he raises an eyebrow.

Just like someone else he knows.

One that, if possible, he didn’t want to think about ever again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He entered the building from the rooftop door and moved down to the fortieth floor, interrupted by absolutely no one. The members of the League he came across simply let him pass, moving towards the embellished wooden door at the end of the hall, not even blinking (not that if they did he’d been able to actually see it under their masks, but whatever).

He thought about knocking first, but then again, with this person, they’d been past such formalities at this point. Not to mention how irritated and pissed he was with her interfering to his own cases.

She was seated at the head of a fully equipped dining table, simply dressed, considering her standards; simple, beige blouse and soft salmon shrug over it. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, and no make-up. Not too elaborate at least.

“Really, Talia?” he sighed, clicking the button on his helmet and taking it off. “You could have just called.”

She didn’t get up to grit him, but she smirked, bringing her glass of red wine briefly on her lips. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to call you while at work. Besides, where is the fun in that?”

“You have a twisted idea of what ‘fun’ means,” he growled, sprawling himself on the chair at the opposite end of the table, setting the helmet aside. “You drama queen.”

“Any Bat blaming another person for being overly dramatic is pretentious at the very least, dear.”

Well… it wasn’t like he could argue with that.

“So… what’s going on?” he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

“Should there be something going on to drop by and see you?”

“Talia. Come on.”

Talia looked at him, with an unreadable expression. “I am sorry for your loss, Jason," she said softly.

Jason felt his teeth clenching until his jaw hurt. It was an almost automatic reaction at this point. Any time anyone referred to Roy, any time he even thought about him, a desperate need to cause himself some kind of physical pain came up. It sometimes managed to take his mind away from the real pain.

Sometimes.

He knew Roy would call him an idiot if he knew about this, but… he found himself unable to help it.

He gave a nod, facing away. “How did you know I was in fucking China anyway?” he asked, seeking to change the subject.

Talia laughed a little, shaking her head and raising her glass towards him. “Oh, Jason.”

He snorted, making his annoyance clear. “You had your doggies kill my informant,” he accused.

Talia put down her glass, and slightly leaned forward, folding her arms gently over the table, her eyes always fixed on him. “I missed you,” she said warmly.

That wasn’t really an excuse. He was boiling inside in on hand, but nevertheless, chose to let it slide and lowered his head a bit, hoping that the sudden rise of temperature over his cheeks wouldn’t show. “My-my,” he raised an eyebrow. “Sentimental, are we? Whatever.”

“So, you’re staying,” she smiled.

“I hope food’s good, ‘cause I’ve been starving for the past ten hours or so,” he set the fine over his knees -the fine manners Alfred had taught him never slipped him in such occasions. He always had a weird feeling that somehow, magically, he’d know and get disappointed in him, if he did otherwise.

The undoubtedly non-English-speaking-waiter came forward and graciously poured him some wine.

“Are you in any way involved in my case?” he suddenly asked.

“If you please!” Talia huffed, sounding offended. “Do you know me to be involved with those low-class idiots? This thing you’re doing right now is far too little for your abilities. Almost as if you’re underestimating yourself.”

Jason sighed and took a ship of his glass. At least he expected the meal to be nice. “Then what is it, Talia? What is this really about?”

“I simply want for us to have a nice, proper meal. No need to get alerted.”

Jason wasn’t alerted _-yet-,_ but he did feel quite awkward and uncomfortable. Both logic and instinct told him there was more to it. Not at all a threat, but still… _something_. Talia… she couldn’t have travelled across the world, went through such trouble and out of her undoubtedly busy schedule just to have a meal with him.

As the waiter came forward with the first plates, he internally chose to go with it, at least for a while, until her real intentions had risen on the surface.

“The smoked salmon pâté is exquisite, Jason. By all means, do taste it.”

He did. “Alfred makes it better,” he shrugged soon after he’d shallowed.

Talia huffed, deeply. “What is it about this butler anyway…”

“Speak ill of Alfred and I’m gonna shoot you, Talia,” he warned her.

“I wasn’t intending to. And you wouldn’t do that,” she gently smiled at him. “Deep down you love me.”

Jason’s face spasmed for a moment, his eyes narrowing, looking at her skeptically. “One in the leg, then.”

Talia laughed, quietly. It wasn’t exactly a denial to her own statement. Not an affirmation, either.

The rest of the dinner just… rolled. The fact that everything was so painfully normal wasn’t really helping into making him feel any better. Talia wanted to know more about the case he was currently handling. He told her. They talked about it. She even suggested one or two solid methods of approach. They discussed on those as well.

By the time the dinner was over, they seemed to have depleted all topics of possible conversation. Or, more accurately, it was _him_ that had run out of things to say.

“I’ve learned about… some sort of conflict between you and Damian. Apparently, you had… an argument?”

Jason tensed a little. _Oh_. So that was what this was about?

“To put it mildly,” he boldly stated, bringing his glass back to his lips.

Talia nodded. “I’d like to hear about it.”

“You’d like to hear how I beat up your son?” he retorted abruptly, suddenly unable to contain the sting in his heart.

Talia didn’t even flinch. Simply crossed her hands over the table, looking at him with piercing eyes. “I know you, Jason. This is why I’m asking. I know you wouldn’t normally do that. I assume Damian did something to you. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Jason snorted, and took the fine off his lap, nervously setting it back on the table. Well. At least she, unlike a certain someone, had bothered to actually approach him and fucking _ask_ him why he did what he did first.

“Damian and I worked together in a case. We split tasks and parted ways, agreeing to keep in touch about this whole thing. Apparently, something very bad happened to his team, the Teen Titans. An explosion. People got hurt. One of his friends died. Treachery from the inside. Damian just jumped to the conclusion that it was me that set them up.” ** _***_**

She narrowed her eyes. “In what proof?”

“No proof. Not a single clue. He just ‘knew’. He called me. We met. He attacked me. I tried to stop him, to deny it. He wouldn’t listen. He intended to throw me into one of his prison cells ‘to rot with the rest of my kind’. I believe those were his exact words. Oh, and yeah. Your son has his own private prison now, in case you didn’t know. Illegally throws there anyone he doesn’t like and anyone that crosses him. You’d be proud, I guess.”

Talia’s eyebrows were knitted as she inhaled deeply, staring at him with an unreadable expression, before she leaned into the back of her chair. “Damian made a horrible mistake and he paid for it. I would expect that he would have known better than to act so irrationally by now,” she declared, a little disappointed. “You’re right to hate him,” she added then.

Jason balanced his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the table. “I don’t hate him, Talia, he’s just a kid. An obnoxious, outrageous, insufferable demon brat… but still, a kid. Of course he’d blame it on me, that’s what he’s learned to do. That’s what they always do. It’s very convenient to them, I suppose.”

The statement came so naturally on his lips, and it hurt surprisingly much afterwards. He kept his face stony enough, even though he was distressfully certain that Talia had already figured. She was staring at him, studying him, very calm and reserved.

“You and Damian have never been close, have you?” she broke the silence after a while. Not even before what happened.”

“Circumstances have never been helpful.”

She exhaled and nodded, in slight defeat, it seemed. “That’s a shame. I would have really liked that. You know… there was a time that I wished Damian would grow up to be at least a little bit like you.”

Jason barked out a pathetic chuckle. “You mean an emotionally unstable, full of all kinds of issues ruin of a human being?”

“No, I mean a strong, brave, determined, smart, skillful, and, deep down, despite how you’d never admit that, _sensitive_ young man.”

This time, he was certain that color had flashed on his cheeks -not nearly enough to blame the wine.

Talia shifted a little. Brushed her fingers on the white, linen table cloth. For the first time that evening, she seemed a little hesitant. Like she couldn’t find the exact words she’d been looking for, which was… unusual for someone like her. “Even though you don’t get along… for the past few years, you have been around him more than I have. Would you say that… perhaps… he’s… getting the worst aspects of his father, instead of the best?”

He realized that, in that very moment, Talia was questioning him not as a major supervillain, but merely as a mother, worrying about her son, honestly asking for his opinion. Which, of course, caused a certain softer aspect of her come on top. One that he was certain she wouldn’t have allowed to show in front of most people. Yet she didn’t have a problem letting it happen with him, indicating a fair amount of trust.

He couldn’t but appreciate that, even feeling slightly grateful for it. For someone simply trusting him that much.

He could offer nothing but honesty in return.

“Like any person, he has both good and bad aspects in him. His good elements are insanely good, and his bad elements are… quite bad. Maybe… maybe they’re more… prominent than the good ones. But… he’s what, twelve, thirteen? He has so, so much time ahead of him, and so many good influences around him. Bruce…”

Sure, he could do that. He could talk about Bruce. It was fine. Totally fine. As long as he’d get that off the way as fast as possible.

“Bruce adores him. He tries very hard to raise him as a decent person, honest and just and fair. It’s just… he’s still far too young to know where to draw a line. And then, there is Alfred, of course. I’d put my hand in fire for him. Alfred can raise nothing but noble people. And Dick, too. Yeah. Him and Damian have always been close.”

Talia frowned a little. “Hmm. Grayson.”

He lifted an eyebrow. "You don’t like Dick? Everyone likes Dick.”

“I don’t know him that well, but he seems… unserious. Quite… unfocused,” she tried to be as decent in her words as possible. “I don’t trust a man who doesn’t have a dark side. I’d take you instead of him any time.”

“I can argue with that, that Dick doesn’t have a dark side, but that’s a long conversation that I’m frankly bored to get on with… Listen, Dick and I never got along, alright? Despite that, I have to admit that in some ways… he is a figure to look up to much more than Bruce is. He’s like… the perfect big brother.”

“But you never had him as _your_ big brother,” Talia pointed out. “He never tried to be close to _you_.”

He swallowed. A muffled cry in his chest. Lowered his eyes. “Like I said,” he spoke quietly, feeling his throat painfully dry, “bad circumstances.”

He nervously grabed his glass, pushing down his throat a few full, harsh sips of wine, leaving nothing but a single drop behind. The waiter came for a refill, and he didn't stop him, even though he didn't intend to have any more to drink.

“As for the seriousness issue,” he tried to push his sudden discomfort away, “Talia, come on. Literally everyone else around Damian before he met his new friends had been… huh. Like… _way_ too serious. So, so much more than needed. He could -and should- use some fun in his life.”

“Damian is destined for greatness,” she declared. "Not... fun."

“Pff… you and your cringeworthy statements… Okay, say that’s the case. What’s that supposed to mean? Can’t he be a little pleasant and not all-moody and cranky in the meantime? Look, maybe your father is to blame more than _you_ are for this, but… you guys stole his childhood away. He’s close to thirteen, and he’s a child only on the outside. Dick, though… Dick is, and always will be, too much of a child on the inside. He can help him find the right balance. Damian  _does_ need him in his life, Talia. And Dick is great with him, after all. He loves him so much. Honestly, I…”

He realized he was just about to spurt out ‘I wish I had him back then as well’. He noted scolding himself later about even thinking such a thing, let alone almost letting it slip.

“Nothing, that’s… that’s it,” he waved a hand.

Maybe some more wine wouldn’t be a bad idea after all.

Talia took a moment of silence, obviously processing his words. “I had never thought about it that way,” she admitted, smiling. “Thank you, Jason.”

He shrugged, having no idea how to respond.

“Still,” she thankfully continued, “I wish you and Damian got along better.”

“Damian doesn’t want me,” he murmured. “None of them does. Not as long as I don’t submit and play by their rules. Which, of course, isn’t ever happening, so… yeah.”

It occurred to him how this might have sounded, how the bitterness in his voice overruled his speech, a little too late.

“I mean, that’s fine,” he hurried to declare. “I’m fine. I **_am_**. I don’t want them either.”

Talia moved her head with a faint smile, in an understanding he felt he hated at that very moment. “There was a brief time,” she drawled, “when you and Damian were growing up in the very same place. Remember?”

“Vaguely,” he lied.

Another smirk. “Vaguely,” she repeated. “I see.”

She gracefully rose from her seat, moving to claim the one next to him, and he suddenly knew what was coming. How could it not follow, after such a conversation? It was, most probably, in both their heads ever since Damian’s name and his relationship with him came along.

“What you did back then, that night…”

“Talia, don’t."

“Jason…”

“You promised you’ll never talk about this to anyone,” he reminded her warningly.

“We’re alone now, though."

“Well, I… I don’t want to talk about it either, all right?” he stuttered, defensively, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

She folded and unfolded her fingers. Crossed her legs. “I think Damian should know,” she eventually suggested.

“No!” he raised his voice, anger punching him in the gut. “ _Talia_!”

Talia shut her eyes, huffing a breath, fingers rubbing against her temple. “I don’t like this. I regret the promise I made you.”

“Now it’s done though, and you can’t just…”

“He should be _thanking_ you, not attacking you, Jason,” she murmured. “I just can’t help but wonder how… different things would be, had he known that, if it wasn’t for you… he would not be alive.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_She’s racing at the hallway, outrunning all her warriors and bodyguards. A bloody sword in her hand. Scarlet red staining her long, white, satin nightgown, as well as her flimsy, laced robe. Her heart’s beating hard enough to explode in her chest._

_The door to Damian’s room is open. The two guards, sprawled on the floor outside. Inside, all three of his maids lay slain, their throats slit. Around them, also on the floor, the bodies of their assailants -six of them. None of **those** are dead. Simply knocked out._

_Talia gazes breathless at the sight, before her son’s laughter causes her eyes to fix upon her real point of interest._

_Jason sits on the floor, against the wall beside Damian’s huge bed, with his arms wrapped around his knees, humped and curled to himself. His face is expressionless, his eyes glassy, as always. Beside him, her three-year-old toddler, in his pajamas, all happy and vigorous, tries to get the older boy to look up at him, his little hands gently cupping his face, mumbling prompts and praises she doesn’t currently have the mind to comprehend._

_Once he realizes there’s movement behind him, he turns, his face brightening up. “Mother, look!” he happily exclaims. “Jason killed bad men!”_

_Her men start picking up the injured intruders as she drops the sword and instantly falls on her knees, pulling her child towards her and hugging him over her with impossible tightness, planting kisses all over his hair._

_“Mother! Mother! Too tight!” Damian protests, struggling at her, and she eases down a bit._

_Sha glances at the teenager, over Damian’s head. Leans closer and gently cups his face, caressing his cheek. “Jason?” she’s whispering softly._

_The boy’s expression remains lost in nothingness, but the contact makes her realize that he’s shaking. Her eyes quickly scan him, and she witnesses some evidence of blood staining his right arm and his clothes. Not **his** blood, she realizes in relief._

_“Damian. What happened here, my love?” she asks calmly._

_Her son raises his face to look at her. “I woke up because Nan was screaming, and these bad men hurt her, and Lona and Faria. And I saw Jason at the door, and then a man raised his sword over me, and I was scared, but then Jason beat him, and all of them!”_

_All of them, knocked out. But none of them dead._

_“Lady Talia,” a voice comes from behind her. “There are more of them next door. In the boy’s room.”_

_It doesn’t take more than a few moments for her to put the pieces all together._

_Those people, the renowned Tiger Clan… she knew them. They were looking to extinguish the al Ghul family. They came for her son, as they came for her too. Only, in this case, they must have gotten the wrong door first -she had put Jason in a smaller room next to Damian’s. So… when they realized their mistake and had headed for their actual target… apparently, someone decided to follow._

_Jason’s response to an attack was the only reaction that never failed to be triggered on him._

_The realization causes her to gasp. Yes, it was true that Jason had been around Damian. She often brought her son with her, when she went to spend some time with him. Damian was suspicious at first. Curiosity had come afterwards. Her son, who used to grow_ _easily bored with anything unproductive, seemed different when he was with Jason. She thought it might have been the fact that Jason was the only person Damian had ever met that was somewhat close to his age._

_He’d been talking to him, even if he never got any answer. He would ramble about his days, his training, his lessons. Demonstrating his valuable possessions at him -namely, his tiny blades and pieces of armor. One time, he even sat beside him, “reading” to him out loud from one of his books. As soon as he was done, quite frustrated on his difficulty, he asked Jason if his accent was good enough, then gazed at the silent teen for a while, and eventually nodded in agreement. It was a sight both funny and surreal._

_She believed that interaction with as many people as possible might have had a positive effect on Jason, but no progress had been made up until that point. He remained silent and unresponsive. Nothing ever registered in him._

_Or so she thought._

_She palms the back of his head and gently tugs him forward, until his face rests on her shoulder. Brushes her fingers through his soft, black strands. “Oh, my boy,” she says warmly. “My sweet boy.”_

_She holds him until the shaking gradually reduces, and then until it’s gone completely. Damian has also relaxed in her other shoulder, almost ready to fall asleep._

_Once her room is clean and tidy, and before the sun rises and she has to deal with the assassination attempts against them, the security breach in their own home, the interrogations of the men Jason had provided them with, she takes them both to sleep with her that night, her father and his disapproval over such “spoiling” be damned._

_She can’t stand being away from them for even a second._

* * *

 

 

 

“I don't know how I did that,” he said, eyes on the floor. “Or why. I can’t remember what was going on in my head, or… Dammit, can’t we just forget about it?"

Talia shook her head. “How could I ever forget that, Jason? I wouldn’t have my son today, if it wasn’t for you that night.”

“You gave me back my life soon after, Talia. You don’t owe me a thing.”

“This isn’t about owing you, Jason. It is about wanting to _offer_ you, like any parent would want to do for their…”

The use of the word clearly had them both stunned. Jason felt his cheeks blushing wildly, and hurried to empty his glass once more, use that as an excuse. “Nobody hears about it. As if it never happened. End of story.”

Talia sighed. “You are just as stubborn as the Bat, if not more than that.”

“That’s practically impossible,” he growled.

She choked back a small laugh. “Of all of them, you most definitely are the most like him. Even more so than Damian is,” she smiled at him. “It’s the truth. That’s why you two don’t get along… despite loving each other so deeply.”

“Every single word in that sentence was complete and total bullshit,” he shot her an angry look. “And I don’t want to talk about _him_.”

Talia sat up a little. “Why did you shoot Penguin?”

“I just said—”

“I’m not talking about him. I’m asking about _Penguin_.”

Jason snorted, unnerved. “He’s responsible for the death of my real father.”

Talia clenched her teeth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You don’t give a shit.”

“I do. It concerns you.” Jason simply shrugged, and she went on. “You are one of the best marksmen and shooters I know, Jason. You shot him point blank. **_You_** did that. If you truly wanted to kill him, he wouldn’t be alive now.”

Jason’s expression was pure glass. “I was enraged. I made a mistake.”

Talia rolled her eyes, offering one of those ‘really, now?’ expressions. She didn’t further comment on that, and he didn’t insist either. They both knew what the truth was.

“Something doesn’t quite fit,” she drawled, eyes skeptically fixed far and away.

“In what?”

“I keep wondering… how come Bruce didn’t see that? How come he didn’t figure right away, since Cobblepot wasn’t dead? If I figured, there’s no way that _he_ didn’t."

“He probably did,” he said stiffly. “He just didn’t care.”

"I’m telling you; something here doesn’t quite fit.”

“Sure, and it’s me, Talia, I am the something. It’s _me_ , the one that doesn’t fit. I never did. And it was wrong of me to assume… to even try.”

She stared at him, for quite a while, before she stood up and approached. Crossed arms against her chest. Balancing herself against the edge of the table. “He’s regretted it.”

He clicked his tongue, grimacing. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Jason, I’ve been watching this man half my life. I know him longer than you, probably better than you, as well. I can see right through him at this point.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re a creep. And secondly…”

He bit his lip, cursing himself for engaging this conversation in the first place. Knowing that there was no way out now, since it had started. He’d been cornered, not only by Talia. Mainly, by himself. At that moment, sitting beside her… it was the very first time he felt everything suffocating him, a violent stream ready to flow through him.

“I saw him. I went back to Gotham about three weeks ago, and I saw him. He…”

A lump on his throat choked what little of his voice could be heard. His mind filled with all those things he’d been seeking to get away from ever since he left Gotham; Alfred’s pained eyes. Dick’s sad, lost expression. The way Bruce held him, before he broke away from him…

Talia stood, stealthy and proud, and only talked when his pause had been long enough for her to assume there wouldn’t be more words any time soon. “Listen to me, and trust me on this: something is wrong. Something is happening to him.”

Jason wet his lips, swallowing. His eyes. His damn eyes were stinging. Burning. “I don’t have… the strength… or the will to think this through right now. I left for a reason.”

He hated how hoarsely his voice came out.

Talia touches his chin, gently tilting his head up to meet his gaze, her eyes suddenly burning him with so much affection he almost couldn’t handle it. She shifted and wrapped her arms around him, her lips resting at the top of his head. “I know that,” she said, quietly. “I know the reason too. The _real_ reason. The one you won’t even admit to yourself.”

Jason felt two tears streaming down his face, and shut his eyes tightly, grateful that his face rested over the soft fabric of her clothing, rendering her unable to see.

Talia pulled away, after a brief, soft kiss was placed on his forehead, and slowly moved to return back to her original seat at the head of the table, giving him time to wipe his face. Almost discreetly, as if she knew. Which… she probably did.

“There is always an open invitation by my side, Jason,” she reminded him, resting her back against the chair. “In the League. At the top of it. And I will be glad to have you at any time”.

Jason clicked his tongue. Gave a small laugh. “Piss off, Talia. Always looking for an excuse. You think I’d leave the Bat Clan only to piss Bruce off by joining the League?”

Talia raised her glass towards him. “It _would_ piss him off, indeed. If this is what you mean to do to him, then I can’t think of a better way.”

He wasn't able to prevent a grin from coming up his face. This was kind of fun, and… he strangely felt warmer inside. Lighter. “You’re nasty.”

She smiled widely. “Well… you can’t blame me for trying. And, as I’ve said… if you decide to take this step, you’ll be at the top, where you deserve to be. Not in a corner. _Never_ in a corner.”

_Never._

 

 

 

 

* * *

_*****Teen Titans (2016): Annual 1** _

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Hello, dearest.”

Damian instantly stiffens, freezing at the sight of his mother.

Shiny, black suit and pants, white shirt. Equally white bag, and gloves, embroidered with gold threads. Olive skin and dark, brown hair shinning in the dim twilight. Glasses with dark lenses -no longer in her eyes, now. Beautiful and fair. Talia al Ghul, in the flesh, just waiting for him… just outside of their Titans base, the home he shared with his friends.

_How on earth---_

“You look quite well,” she goes on.

Obviously, that wasn’t referring to his current emotional state.

He straightens his back, unwilling to let any surprise or hesitation show. “Mother,” he says blankly. “Why are you here?”

She does not seem at all affected by the coldness of his tone. “I apologize for the abrupt visit. You _do_ seem to be very busy lately, but I would appreciate it if you had a few minutes to spare.”

“Minutes?” he drawls.

“Yes. I don’t expect this to take long.”

Her eyes, her investigative gaze, roam over the grey walls beside them, rising high above, and then falling on the ground, as if she can see what’s beneath it, before she turns to him again. Damian feels a chill running down his spine, and yet, he calmly, proudly returns the look.

“Impressive,” she gestures to the ground. “I would guess your father doesn’t know about this. Otherwise, we would stand beside nothing by ruins right now.”

“My father…”

“… would be extremely disappointed,” she coldly finishes for him. “Not your grandfather, though. Maybe for the first time, he would be proud. If that was your goal, I congratulate you, son. This is exactly **_his_** way of doing things.”

Damian feels his ears burning, flushing with both waves of fury and displeasing bites of shame. “So, you’re here to insult me?” he growls, maybe more aggressively than originally intended.

“I am here to spare you from further _shame_ later on.”

“How generous of you,” he sneers.

Talia shoots him a glance sharper than her blades before she goes on. “I met Jason a few days ago.”

Damian huffs, derogatorily. “And?”

“Of what I hear, you falsely accused him of treason.”

He clicks his tongue and chuckles. “And he came to _you_ to _complain_ about it? Pathetic.”

“If you really believe that’s what Jason Todd would do, then, my boy, you are far more delusional than I thought. Tell, me, Damian… what clues did you have to support your assumption?”

“You mean other than the fact that he has repeatedly disrespected the entire family and betrayed our trust, disobeyed every logical order, broke every promise he ever gave?” he barked defensively.

“Those were your _clues_?” Talia snorts. “No wonder Drake is known as the Detective and not you. He would have exceeded you in every way possible.”

Anger blasts him wildly. “I will not sit here to…”

“Aside from your hasty, problematic judgement, your needlessly brutal approach and simplistic way of thinking -all of which most definitely require vast improvements… your ignorance is a problem as well. I cannot allow you treating this way,” she continues as if never interrupted. “Not to the person you owe your life to.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

His mother inhales, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

And then she starts narrating.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Mother?”_

_Talia blinks her eyes open and gazes at her son, who lies between her and Jason’s sleeping form, with a faint smile. “You should sleep, Damian.”_

_The toddler shrugs a bit, and she wraps an arm around him, rubbing up and down his spine in a calming pattern she knows Damian favors. “Are you thinking about those men?”_

_The child nods. “Who were they, mother?”_

_“Enemies. You will find, in time, that we are surrounded by them at all times.”_

_A low, broken whine has them both turning their attention to where Jason lies. Soon enough, another sob follows. The teenager curls to himself in his sleep, a pained, frightened expression burned in his features._

_Damian turns to look at her again. “Jason is crying,” he says, sounding lost._

_She nods, fighting the instinctive need to plant herself between them and cradle the boy in her arms until it stops. “He has nightmares, darling. Bad dreams. What would you do if I weren’t here?”_

_“You **are** here,” he insists, frustrated._

_“In the future, Damian, there will be times that I won’t be. That you will have to solve problems and handle situations on your own. And you won’t always know how.”_

_Her son frowns, and she has no idea what to expect. Damian simply turns his back to her and moves close to Jason, curling his little arms around him as much as he can, even picking himself up to press a kiss on his cheek. He stays close to him, hugging him, until the older boy’s expression has grown once more peaceful in his sleep, and the room has sank to silence once more._

_Damian glances at her, looking hilariously proud of himself. “I made it!”_

_Talia smiles at him. “That’s excellent, my love. You did so good.”_

_She expects him to lie back between them, but he stays at Jason’s side instead, looking very thoughtful as his little hand carefully strokes Jason’s face. “Why Jason doesn’t speak? Why doesn’t he play with me and train with me?”_

_Talia thinks about it for a few moments and gives the one answer she believes to be most suitable to a small child’s understanding. “Some time ago, a very bad man managed to hurt Jason. He hurt him far too much. Most of the times, when someone is hit on the head, or simply suffer a great amount of pain and shock… they lose a part of themselves. They stop being able to do things that are normal to other people.”_

_“Why did this man hurt him?” he knits his little eyebrows._

_“He intended to kill Jason.”_

_Damian’s eyes widen. “Why?!”_

_She angles her elbow and supports her head in her hand. “He wanted Jason’s father to suffer. He is his enemy.”_

_It’s the first time Talia sees the spark of pure rage in her baby’s eyes. “I want to kill him,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world._

_She reaches out one hand, rubbing at his back again. “Sometimes, I want that too.”_

_Damian turns to Jason again. “Will he get better?”_

_“We are trying to help him,” she sighs, “but it is very hard.”_

_“Where is his father now? He doesn’t want him, because he can’t speak anymore?”_

_It crosses her mind to go completely honest with him, explain who Jason really is, as well as the fact that they share the very same father. She manages to hold back the impulse, restraining herself. No. No, this wasn’t the right time._

_“This is no reason for a father not wanting his son anymore. Jason’s father doesn’t know he is alive. He suffered too much when he thought he lost him. I’m hoping…. I’m hoping that, one day, we will manage to help him get better. Then, he can go back to him.”_

_“No! He can’t leave!” Damian firmly, stubbornly protests, clenching his arms around Jason, making him stir in his sleep. “He is mine!”_

_Talia lets out a small laugh. “We do not own people, Damian.”_

_He doesn’t seem willing to accept that. “But if he is mine, then he can’t take him away! Or you can bring him to stay here, with us!” he protests. “Our home is big!”_

_Talia stares blankly at the void, lost in her own thoughts for the next few seconds. “If only this could happen,” she says, quietly._

_“Jason won’t leave,” Damian murmurs. “I am not allowing this.”_

_An unhappy exhale slips through her lips. “If it isn’t his father, the one who takes him away… it will most probably be your grandfather. He believes that trying to help Jason is merely a waste of time. That he is useless in his state.”_

_“Jason is NOT useless!” he exclaims in anger, sitting up on his knees on the mattress. “He is brave and the best fighter and he saved me!”_

_“He doesn’t consider that enough.”_

_Damian’s cute little face is painted red with fury. “Fine! Then I don’t like grandfather anymore,” he pouts. “And if he takes Jason away, I will break his room and all his favourite things!”_

_And with that, he turns on his side, facing away from her, and clinging to Jason, his tiny fists tightening on the teen’s thin shirt._

_Talia pulls the covers over them after a while, after Damian has fallen asleep, giving a kiss to each of them, over the softness of their hair._

 

* * *

 

 

Damian feels his mind going numb, desperately clinging to disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” he rasps out.

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his own voice more uncertain before.

His mother faintly smirks, simply observing him for quite a few moments. “Yes, you do,” she says softly.

He slowly shakes his head. “I would remember it,” he murmurs.

“You would? You were only three years old.”

He forces his brain to start functioning again, but… there’s really nothing useful he could throw against this claim.

“You cried so hard the day I told you Jason was gone,” she remarks. “When I had to send him away, protecting him from your grandfather’s wrath. I could not believe it. You had never cried like that before -or after, to the best of my knowledge.”

Damian huffs, unnerved, and wishes he could turn his back on her, cover his ears and run, but his feet don’t currently seem to move. His brain, apparently, is far too preoccupied with Todd. With the whole new wave of frustration and awkwardness flushing over him. As if he hadn’t wronged him enough, up until this point, this thing right now… this made everything so, so much worse.

“If this is true, why would you keep it a secret all these years?” he asks abruptly.

“Jason made me promise. He didn’t want you or anyone else to know.”

 _“Why?”_ he hisses through gritted teeth.

“This is how Jason is: stubborn, and proud. He didn’t want your gratitude. To get free passes just because you felt you had to repay him for something.”

“I don’t care about his damn pride!” he ends up saying after a while. “I should have known that, mother!”

“You know _now_.”

Her tone pretty much also adds _‘what are you going to do about it?’_ to it, and frankly, he doesn’t have the darnest idea, so he decides to ignore it. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty,” he accuses instead, eyebrows knitted.

Talia smiles. “Deservingly so.”

Damian takes a breath, momentarily shutting his eyes. “I was… wrong. I know. But considering his history, can you blame me for thinking of it? I had more reasons than… than father had. For what _he_ did.”

She sighs, pushing her glasses back in her eyes. “And that incident was yet another reason why I would expect you would stand by Jason’s side, and not against him.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Your father is so much more than a Dark Knight or a punisher, a bringer of justice, or a detective. So much more than a catastrophic rage machine. Before I met him, I have never known a man as strong, brave, stern and strict, who was, at the same time, capable of such gentleness, compassion and understanding. This is who your father is… even though, lately, he seems to have slipped into impossibly dark depths,” she says calmly. “It saddens me deeply that, from all his exquisite virtues, his darkest, cruelest aspects is all you’ve chosen to adapt for yourself.”

It stings him unexpectedly sharp, the point she makes, and he wants to deny it, to present a logical argument, or simply go in an angry rant, but… no voice seems to be coming out of him. “I’m not…” he finally chokes, hating how shaky and uncertain his voice comes out.

His mother stares at him, for a few endless moments, before she reaches her hand into the breast pocket of her suit to retract a card. She moves softly, with grace, to stand beside him and extend her hand to him. He takes what she offers and gazes at it.

“What is it?” he asks, still looking at the profound phone number, written with her own, elegant handwriting.

“If you ever want to contact Jason and make right to your mistakes, you can call him here,” she simply says. “Only **_I_** know this number. To get to him if necessary.”

The fact that Todd apparently trusts his mother as much as for her to be the only person he would eagerly have any relationship with after everything that’s been happening lately, impresses him, at the very least. He knew that his mother was fond of him, but… up until that point, he hadn’t realized how deeply she _cared_. Maybe even almost as much as she cared about him.

 _Almost_.

“I don’t think he would want you… giving me this,” he says, a lump on his throat.

“He certainly wouldn’t. And this is why I trust that you will make nothing but a good, _fair_ , thoughtful use of it."

“He wouldn’t want to hear my voice… even if I knew what to tell him,” he murmurs, eyes on the ground.

She gently reaches out her hand, tilting his chin up, her fingers soft and tender on him. “Figure it out,” she says. “And never look down. Look everyone in the eye. Even your mistakes. _Especially_ your mistakes.”

Her fingers stroke along his jaw, and her face lightly spasms, her body shifting as if she wants to do something more… something to which Damian has no idea how he would react to at this point.

She must be sensing it, since all she eventually does is straighten her back and pass by him.

“I love you, Damian,” she sings as she walks away. “Never forget that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!~ I hope you've enjoyed!
> 
> Next part, featuring a confrontation that absolutely needs to take place.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: [Lady Paper Writerson's](https://ladypaperwriterson.tumblr.com/)


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